What Family is For
by JBS-Forever
Summary: Missing scene in 4.19 (episode 'Jump the Shark'). The story of what happened after Dean got Sam untied from the table and had to deal with the terrifying amount of blood he'd lost. One-shot.


**Just a little short one-shot I wrote because I haven't been able to sleep lately. Always wondered about this missing scene in Jump the Shark. Seriously, Sam lost a lot of blood. A lot.**

**(I haven't given up on The Outsiders, for anyone who is worried. I'm just having problems with my current story and have started a new one in order to compensate. Priorities. Yeah, I got them straight.)**

**Anywayyyy...**

**Enjoy :)**

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The first cut burns hot like a thousand knifes stabbing into his arm. He screams before he can control it. The second comes with just as much force, making his vision spin in front of him. He thinks he screams again, but he can't be sure. Everything is on fire. He's burning.

He pulls on his bound hands and feet desperately. It's like his body is convulsing, moving without him controlling it. He wishes desperately to be free. Wishes he could at least cradle his injuries in attempt to to stop the pain and blood flow. And there's so much blood. Too much.

Adam's voice fills his ears.

"Sam," he says, and it sounds like he's far away even though Sam knows he hasn't moved. "The more you struggle, the faster you're gonna bleed out. So you might as well lie back and relax."

Sam feels a sarcastic retort getting ready to roll off his lips, hidden somewhere in the gasps and moans that are taking place of his breath. Before he can get it out, there's a new, angry voice in the room – one he recognizes all too well.

"Hey!"

_Dean_.

A loud boom echoes around him and Sam hears Adam crashing into something. He tries to focus, tries to get his hands free.

"Dean, they're ghouls," he chokes out. There's a brief moment of hesitation where Sam figures Dean must be letting the information sink in. And then, in a flash, another shot sounds out.

"Which means head shot," Dean says. Sam's not sure who he's talking to. He knows that. He's always known that.

Dean's hands are on his arm for the slightest moment before they are gone and he's being pulled away by Adam. Sam hears them go crashing through the glass door into the next room, but when he looks up, all he can see is his blood. He groans.

A wave of vertigo washes over him and he closes his eyes. His heartbeat is pounding his head, rushing through his ears like waves crashing against the shore. It's so loud he can barely hear the sound of Dean and Adam struggling with each other, but he knows they're still there.

He pulls on his restraints again, but his attempts are growing weaker. When he opens his eyes, everything is blurry and faded and not right. Nothing is right. He can't feel anything.

Gasping, he tries to listen for sounds around him. A series of dull thuds are all he picks up. He hopes it's coming from his brother, and knows it must be, because Adam would have stopped after one final blow. Dean can't control himself. But Adam is his brother, too. Or was his brother. God, Sam doesn't know.

"_Dean," _he calls – moans, really, because he can't help it.

Dean is there a second later. He slashes through the rope holding down Sam's right arm and Sam groans as he pulls his hand down closer to him, pain shooting through his nerves. Dean moves to free his other arm and Sam tries to sit up, but the tape across his chest and his sheer lack of energy keeps him down. His hair is plastered to his forehead in a sweaty mess and he knows it can't be possible to be this hot.

Dean frees him of the last binding and then puts a hand behind his back, helping to pull him up.

"Come on, come on, come on," he mutters, and Sam groans again as he's forced into a sitting position. He thinks he should be happy he can feel something again, but he's too tired. Far too tired.

"Here we go. All right, here we go. Here we go." Dean holds Sam's wrist steady in his grip, careful not to touch the wound. Sam wonders distantly if he even realizes he's talking.

He lets out another groan.

"Here we go, buddy." Dean wraps a cloth around his arm and presses down hard. Sam can't stop the sound that escapes from his throat as the pain bubbles up into his chest. Dean casts him a quick glance before he wraps the other wrist the same way. Sam is ready for the feeling this time.

"All right, all right," Dean mutters, probably trying to soothe him. Sam isn't sure. He pulls in a few gasps to steady his racing heart as Dean holds both his wrists.

"Thank you," he says roughly. Dean looks up at him. He seems far away, like he couldn't possible be close enough to touch him.

"That's what family's for, right?" Dean says. He lets go of him and reaches back to grab his knife. "Keep pressure on that."

Sam's head is spinning. He's too weak to hold pressure on his wounds, and he still can't seem to get a good amount of air to his lungs. He feels Dean sawing at the rope around his ankles, and then, before he understands what's happening, someone is lightly slapping his face.

"Come on, Sammy. Stay with me."

He figures he must have blacked out somewhere, because he's on his back again, Dean hovering in his vision.

"You gotta get up, Sam."

"Dean," he mumbles. He wants to say more, but he's not sure what he's saying. He's so tired. His eyelids flutter from the weight of keeping them open.

"I don't think so." Dean's hands are behind him again, helping to lift him. "You gotta help me here. You're all limbs. You're like a giant Gumby."

Sam feels his stomach churning. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall forward. It hits something soft, and he realizes Dean has moved to catch him.

"Come on, Sam," Dean says. There's a hint of desperation behind the stern order. "We gotta get you some help."

"Dean," Sam tries again. He swallows around the cotton feeling in his throat. "Sick."

"Yeah, well, most of your blood is in a couple bowls on the floor," Dean says. "So it's no wonder you don't feel good."

"'m gonna throw up."

"We'll deal with that when it comes. Right now we gotta get you out of here, okay?"

"Okay."

"And you gotta help me. At least keep some pressure on your wrists. You're bleeding like a stuck pig."

"Stop makin' analogies," Sam mutters, sliding his legs over the side of the table. Dean grabs his upper arm.

"I'll stop making analogies when you can walk by yourself."

His grip is tight, and it's the only thing that keeps Sam from falling completely the moment his feet hit the ground. His limbs give out on him and Dean stumbles with his weight.

"Good God," he grumbles. "Pressure, Sam. Keep pressure on those wrists. I'm not kidding."

"I know."

Dean starts to usher Sam forward, but Sam's so focused on smashing his wrists together than he can't keep up with Dean's movement. His body feels too heavy to hold, even with his older brother supporting most of it, and he's not hot anymore. He's cold. Really cold.

He blinks and then he's falling.

Dean struggles to keep hold of him, letting out a groan. "Sammy, come on. You gotta help me, man. You gotta move."

But Sam can't figure out if he's even standing or not. Everything is swaying in front of him, toying with his vision and stomach. It isn't until his knees hit the floor that he realizes he's no longer upright.

Dean's warm hands cup his face.

"Sammy," he says. "Can you hear me?"

Sam feels something hard beneath his back. He doesn't remember falling all the way. He doesn't remember closing his eyes.

He opens them and tries to focus on Dean's face. His vision doesn't clear. Nothing makes sense.

"Come on, Sam. Stay with me. Wake up."

He lets out a low hum, trying to tell Dean he's still awake even if he can't keep his eyes open. Dean's hands disappear from his skin, leaving behind a cold feeling. Sam hears him talking a moment later, but can't make out what he's saying.

The darkness takes over before he can stop it.

XxX

Sam wakes again to the sound of voices somewhere close to him. He feels warm – content. There's no pain. He doesn't remember why there should be.

"And what did you say happened?"

A harsh sigh follows the question. Sam recognizes the voice.

"I came into the house and found Sam. Adam and Kate were already dead."

"What were you doing there?"

"Having a tea party," Dean snaps. "What do you think? I was visiting my brother. Is that a crime?"

"What was Sam doing there?"

"Are you –? Forget it. We're done. I already told all this to the other doctor. Go ask him."

"Sir, we're just –"

"Checking to see if Sam was trying to kill himself," Dean says angrily. "Yeah, I get it. He was attacked, okay? He was tied to a table. So unless he's a magician, I doubt he was able to tie himself up and slash his wrists."

"Look, I understand you're angry, but we're –"

"Trying to cover all the bases. Uh huh. Got it. I'm going back in with my brother now, unless you have any more stupid questions to ask me."

Sam's eyes are still closed, but he knows Dean leaves without waiting for an answer. He hears him muttering angrily under his breath a few moments later, sounding close to him. He wants to say something, but he drifts away before he can think of anything.

XxX

The next time he wakes, someone is screaming. His ears are vibrating and hands are on him, pressing down on him, trying to keep him from moving. He doesn't understand why.

"Sam!" a voice says roughly. There's desperation in that voice somewhere. "You're all right, Sam! Just relax. Relax or else this creepy nurse is going to sedate you again."

Sam's eyes flutter open and he realizes he's the one screaming. His body is moving without his control, fighting the hands restraining him. Dean's hands.

"Sammy, calm down."

Sam relaxes against his will, energy draining as confusion waves over his muddy brain.

"Dean?" he mutters. Dean's face is pulled tight, but he nods. There's a lady standing behind him, holding something in her hands, watching Sam carefully.

"I'm here, Sam," Dean says. Sam tries to push himself up, but Dean's hand plants firmly on his chest, giving him a silent warning to stay down. His arms fumble uselessly, looking for something to do.

"Adam–"

"I know," Dean says shortly. He throws a comment over his shoulder that Sam can't pick up. But when the lady behind him scowls and stalks away, Sam realizes Dean must have been worried about what he was going to say.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

Sam shakes his head before he registers the question. "What?"

"All right, Loopy. Why don't you just get some rest?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm your big brother and I said so."

Sam is faintly aware of a throbbing sensation coursing up his arms. He looks down at them and sees they are wrapped in thick bandages. His fingers start trembling.

"Dean."

Dean frowns at him. "You're in the hospital, Sam. It's all right. Adam and Kate attacked you, remember? They sliced open your wrists pretty good."

"I–" Sam swallows hard against the nausea rising in his stomach. Tears spring into his eyes and he blinks them back quickly, not sure where they are coming from.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yeah," Sam says hoarsely. "I don't know."

"Yes or no question, little bro. I'll get you more morphine."

"No," he says.

"No what?"

Sam shakes his head, pushing Dean's hand away from him. "It's making me feel weird."

Dean sighs. "Fine. If you're not gonna take it, at least try to get some rest so we can get out of here."

"Yeah, all right," Sam says. "All right."

"All right."

XxX

When he wakes again, things look more clear. His wrists are throbbing painfully with the memories of what happened, and when he looks around, he realizes he's in a hospital.

Dean is asleep in the chair next to his bed, head tilted back against the wall at an uncomfortable angle. As if he can feel Sam's gaze on him, his eyes snap open.

"Hey," he says quickly, scrambling forward to rest a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Take it easy, okay?"

Sam nods and glances across the room. "Where are we?"

"Hospital," Dean says.

"I got that."

"Yeah, well, I've told you like six times where we are already, so I didn't feel like explaining again."

"You have?" Sam asks, looking at him in confusion. "When?"

"The million times you woke up all drugged out." Dean takes his hand away and runs it over his face. "Personal favorite was when you started screaming."

Sam frowns. "Why was I screaming?"

"I don't know."

"I'm really awake, Dean," Sam says. Dean eyes him carefully for a moment, searching his face.

"They pumped you full of morphine and sedatives," he says. "You were just freaking out."

"How long have we been here?"

Dean glances at his watch. "Half a day. They had to give you a blood transfusion. Guess who is a match for your AB negative ass?" He raises his own arm, showing Sam the bandage on the inside of his elbow.

Sam cocks an eyebrow at him. "I'm not AB negative."

"Indeed you are, Sammy Boy. Rarest type of blood in the world, according to your doctor."

"You're not AB negative."

"I don't have to be. Come on, Sam. Haven't you ever taken a biology class?"

"I have," Sam says. "But you haven't."

"I've lived biology. Don't start with me."

Sam rolls his eyes and looks down at his arms. The pain is still fresh, but it doesn't hurt like before. He wonders if they'll scar. If people will think he tried to take his life. He'll know the truth, and Dean will know, but he doesn't know if that will be enough.

"You ready to high-tail it out of here?" Dean asks. Sam nods.

"Definitely."

"Do you want to do it?"

Sam looks up at him. "What?"

Dean grabs his hand, and it feels warmer and more gentle than Sam expects. He flips it over, showing the IV protruding from Sam's vein.

"Oh," Sam says. "I'll do it."

In one swift motion, he rips the tape and the IV free. A split second later, Dean is pushing a cotton ball onto the small wound, soaking up the blood.

"Sam," he says seriously. "I gave you blood. Do you know what this means?"

"What?"

"I'm inside you."

"Shut up."

Dean's lips twitch. "Let's get out of here, kid."

Sam breaths out a laugh and nods, smiling. "Thanks, Dean."

"That's what family is for."


End file.
